


Fuckin’ Girl Scouts Conspiracy

by rewmariewrites



Series: Samwell's Co-Supernatural Hockey Haus [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Check Please Supernatural Creatures AU, Girl Scouts, Shitty is a Werewolf, Swearing, a lot thats how many times, im canadian do you know how many times i wrote girl guides, instead of girl scouts, mentions of bitty, mentions of lardo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 11:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16304669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewmariewrites/pseuds/rewmariewrites
Summary: The biggest girl of the bunch, a tall blonde girl, raises her eyebrows and asks, “May we have a moment of your time, Mister...?”“Mr. Shitty.” Shitty answers on impulse, then smacks a hand to his forehead in immediate regret. It’s too late now, he’s in too deep. Hopefully, when the mothers of these small girl-children come after his head for swearing, he’ll have had time to call his own mother and tell her he loves her





	Fuckin’ Girl Scouts Conspiracy

**Author's Note:**

> shitty: wow here is a thing I do not know pls explain I am dying to know more  
> girls: here is a taste of this thing we know that you do not  
> shitty: wow thanks I hate it pls take it back I am dying to not know this information

This is, honestly, not how Shitty thought his day was going to go.

Really, his days  _ never _ go the way he thinks they’re going to go, mostly because he’s a weirdly-approachable varsity hockey bro who studies The Law, but even  _ this _ is outside the very wide range of things that could happen to him within a given day.

Shitty is alone in the living room of the Haus, except for Jack, who is up in his room studying, when the doorbell rings. Which is honestly pretty fuckin’ weird, because the last time Shitty checked, the Haus didn’t have a doorbell. But maybe Bitty fixed it - he does that sort of thing, right? He fixed the oven that one time, probably, so fixing the doorbell should be a reasonable thing for him to do. If there even was a doorbell to begin with, which… there might have been. Maybe. There was maybe probably a doorbell.

Anyways, Shitty doesn’t even bother thinking about pulling on pants or a shirt (because he  _ hates them _ , and because anyone who could be at the door should be familiar enough with Haus rules to know that there is always a possibility of a barely-clothed Shitty Knight) before he vaults over the back of the couch and jogs towards the door, throwing it open with a flourish.

In front of the door stands four small girls, one of which still has her hand raised like she was about to push the doorbell again. The smallest one’s eyebrows shoot all the way up to her hairline at the sight of Shitty, but the rest of them look entirely unfazed. Each of them is wearing a uniform and a small sash, riddled with embroidered badges. Half-hidden behind a fifth girl that is standing just off the porch is a red wagon piled high with small boxes.

After a moment of charged eye contact - charged with  _ panic _ on Shitty’s end, because these are  _ children _ and he should have  _ clothes on _ \- he turns into the house and bellows, “Jacques, buddy,  _ I need pants _ !” then texts Jack seventeen times for good measure.

The biggest girl of the bunch, a tall blonde girl, raises her eyebrows and asks, “May we have a moment of your time, Mister...?”

“Mr. Shitty.” Shitty answers on impulse, then smacks a hand to his forehead in immediate regret. It’s too late now, he’s in too deep. Hopefully, when the mothers of these small girl-children come after his head for swearing, he’ll have had time to call his own mother and tell her he loves her.

“Mr. Shitty, we are from the Girl Scouts of North America and…” the littlest girl, the redhead, trails off, like she’s forgotten her line, and the blonde holds a well-worn handbook in front of her face. “Oh! And we would like to sell you some cookies. For charity. And so we can get our next badge.” The tall blonde sighs, but Shitty gets the idea, and it’s  _ awesome _ .

“ _ Absolutely, _ I want some cookies,” Shitty answers, “Girl Scout cookies are the  _ best _ .” 

( _ Jacques there are cookies Jacques bring my wallet I need the cookies Jacques bring the wallet Jacques AND MY PANTS _ , Shitty texts frantically.)

The girls all visibly brighten. The one holding the handle of the red wagon even bounces on her toes a little.

“Mr. Shitty, can I ask you a question?” The one with long brown braids tucked neatly under her little beret sounds unsure, so Shitty pops a squat so he is eye-level with all of them. He read somewhere that kids are more intimidated when they have to look up at you, and Shitty is intimidating  _ enough _ , thanks, will all that hair and hockey-muscle, so if it makes these children more comfortable he will  _ sure as shit _ pop a squat, even if his calves are already threatening to cramp up.

“ _ He-ck  _ yes you can.” ( _ Do not fuckin’ swear in front of these small fuckin’ children, Shitty Knight _ .)

All of them giggle at Shitty’s almost-slip-up. “Mr. Shitty, are you a Bigfoot?”

Shitty  _ immediately _ looks down at his chest, and grimaces. He’s a  _ werewolf _ , okay, and he’s never exactly been a manscaping kinda man, even though it’s a totally valid choice. He loves what his mother gave him, and all that, _ even if  _ what his mother gave him was a case of the once-a-month munchies and a luscious field of chest hair. There’s a reason he has that big ol’ moustache and all that serious flow - werewolves just have  _ a lot  _ of hair.

What he says, though, is, “I think the preferred term is Sasquatch, now,” because they just covered that last month in his Indigenous Peoples and Species course and he’s not about to pass up an opportunity to affirm an identity. 

The little girl nods solemnly, and corrects herself. “Are you a Sasquatch, Mr. Shitty?”

“ _ Oh my god, Sarah _ , you can’t just  _ ask _ him if he’s a Sasquatch, that’s against the  _ oath _ ,” the one with the bushy pigtails whisper-yells from behind her hand, as if that would prevent Shitty from hearing her, and Shitty stifles a shit-eating grin.

“Why can’t you ask me if I’m a Sasquatch?” is all he says in response to that, keeping his expression serious and interested. Which isn’t  _ hard _ , because he didn’t know that Girl Scouts had  _ oaths _ , nevermind oaths concerning  _ Sasquatch _ , and now he needs to  _ know everything _ .

The blonde sighs, and pulls her (worryingly thick) handbook back out from inside her uniform jacket. It looks well-worn in a way that he did not expect a handbook belonging to a pre-teen to look.

“Article Twenty-Two, 'Bigfoot', of Section Fifteen 'Oaths and Blood-Oaths', states that in exchange for (redacted) -” a high-pitched noise makes Shitty flinch, and he can see the girl’s lips moving but can’t tell what she’s saying “- a Bigfoot or suspected Bigfoot’s identity will be kept a solemn secret from all non-Girl Scout parties. In addition, Bigfoots may be awarded a discount of up to thirty percent so long as they buy cookies from any Girl Scout that offers, every time cookies are offered. Addendum 1-a states that any suspected Bigfoot does not have to confirm their identity to receive the discount, so long as they fulfill their component of the oath.” With a snap, the blonde girl closes the handbook and tucks it away, giving him a sweet (terrifying) smile.

“But we have to  _ know _ if he’s a Samsquantch to give him the discount,” Sarah says, eyebrows furrowed. 

(“ _ Sasquatch _ ,” Shitty and the blonde girl correct Sarah in unison, and Shitty has to suppress a full-body shudder when they make eye contact. All of a sudden that little blonde girl is  _ really fuckin’ freaky _ but he  _ really _ wants cookies and also she looks like she’s  _ ten _ so there’s no  _ fuckin’ way _ that she should be more intimidating than most of the guys he comes across on the ice.)

“I think we should vote,” the little redhead says, and the rest clamour over themselves to agree with her. All five of the girls vote to give him the discount. Sarah cites his chest-hair as her reason to believe that Shitty is a Sasquatch, while red-wagon-girl waxes poetical about his moustache, and the one with the braids is adamant about his large feet. 

“Um, Shitty? I have your pants and your wallet?” Jack says from just inside the door, and  _ thank god _ there’s another person here to witness whatever the fuck is going on here.

All of the girls immediately go silent, though, and smile innocuously at Jack. Even the blonde one. Shitty narrows his eyes at her, just a little - after that whole  _ high-pitched-loud-noise _ business, he’s not inclined to trust her any more. Besides,  _ blood oaths _ ? What the  _ fuck _ ?

“Here you go Mr. Shitty, four boxes of Thin Mints and three of Tagalongs. That comes to $28. We can make it an even $30 and give you another box, if you want,” the one with the braids says, unloading nine boxes of goodness into his arms. Had he told them how many boxes of cookies he wanted? He didn’t remember telling them how many boxes he wanted. Or what kind of cookies he wanted. Not that he’s complaining, he fuckin’  _ loves _ Thin Mints, but still.

“Jacques, buddy, hand me thirty dollars?” Shitty asks, frowning. Jack wordlessly presses the money into his hand, and Shitty passes it ( _ very carefully _ ) to the tall blonde. She smiles as she takes it from him, and - are those  _ sharp teeth _ ? Fuck, he’s going to have nightmares for  _ weeks _ .

“Goodbye Mr. Shitty, we’ll see you soon!” The redhead calls out, trailing a little behind the other girls as they make their way off the porch and down the street, presumably towards the next unsuspecting varsity sports team’s house. 

When Shitty stands and faces Jack, idly trying to stretch the stiffness out of his knees, Jack is frowning with severe confusion after the Girl Scouts. “Shitty, why were there Girl Guides at our house? Aren’t Girl Guides supposed to have blue uniforms? Have we ever had Girl Guides come to the Haus’s door before?”

“Jacques, I have absolutely no fuckin’ clue what those little girls were up to. They called me a Sasquatch and gave me a discount, though, so I won’t say no if they come back.” Shitty takes his pants out of Jack’s hands, and then pauses, reconsidering. “Well, if that little blonde girl comes back without the others,  _ definitely don’t open the door _ . She has some kind of  _ freaky demon shit  _ going on , probably. Not that all demons have freaky shit going on, but she definitely did. She was talking about  _ blood oaths _ . She looked like she was  _ten_.”

Jack makes a skeptical face, but Shitty _knows_ what he saw. He bumps affectionately past Jack, aiming towards the kitchen, arms full of pants and cookies. 

“You might not want to put those cookies in the kitchen, eh? Either Ransom and Holster will get them, or Bittle will eat them all in one sitting. I’ve seen him do it before, he’s a menace about Thin Mints.” Jack calls, even as he turns to make his way back upstairs.

Suddenly, a thought hits Shitty like a lightning bolt. “Jack! Jack! Do we have a fuckin’ doorbell?”

Jack comes back down the stairs  _ just _ to make a face at Shitty. Shitty would be offended if he weren’t so concerned about the goddamn doorbell. “No, of course not. We’ve never had one, not even one that doesn’t work. Maybe you should take a break from studying for a while, eh? Give that brain a rest?”

“ _ Fuckin’ Girl Scouts conspiracy _ , _motherfuckin'_ _magic doorbell_   _bullshit_ ” is all Shitty has to say to  _ that _ .

~

(The girls were not kidding, though, he really  _ does _ see them soon. He seems them that weekend when he goes to the supermarket to pick up butter for Bitty. He sees them on the quad, where they have a little tent set up just outside the library. He even sees them at one of the team’s  _ away games _ . It’s more than a little freaky, if he’s honest, but he also really loves that thirty-percent discount, so every time he sees them he buys as many boxes as they give him and everyone goes on their merry way.

One time, at a  _ different _ supermarket, he stumbles across them as he’s doing some shopping with Lardo. They greet her as Leader Larissa, and when she and the tall blonde share a toothy, sly grin, Shitty  _ might maybe _ take two quick steps backwards. That makes  _ so much sense _ and is also  _ so terrifying _ .)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post (http://and-still-not-a-ginger.tumblr.com/post/178689283021/hlahlahlahlahly-shorthalt-girls-scouts) on tumblr. 
> 
> Sorry it's been a while! I'm working on a couple of Ransom and Holster things rn so I will try to get those ready for publication soon. Thank you all for continuing to read and leave kudos and nice comments, I really appreciate it, you have all been so kind and supportive, it really makes me happy :)
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at: and-still-not-a-ginger.tumblr.com! i would love to answer your questions or accept prompts or whatever :)


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